Sorry, I don't believe one word of the accusers of Michael Jackson. I have a son. There isn't a dollar amount that exists that would make me compromise his safety. He couldn't settle out of court for one dime. There isn't a force that exists that would keep me from either: a) pounding his face until he's dead or my fists become spaghetti. b) Seeing him incarcerated. Those families "settled out of court" (extorted)....
Umm... I wasnt accusing him of anything... I was just commenting that, that picture sets off alarm bells in my head. Which it does, it is just extremely uncomfortable to watch. Im glad that you feel that way about your son. I live in a family where literally all 5 of my aunts and uncles on my moms side were murdered by her father, thankfully while he tried to murder my mom and grandma he was caught in time they were able to save them... I have had to in a very real way deal with bad, screwed up parenting.
A predator would identify and go after easier prey. Just because you would beat him doesn't mean other parents would.
BTW, Lanny, my story was not intended to minimize or outdo yours, more to show I understand your (and your wife's) excitement...
You don't have to explain that to me, Wookee. By the way, for the benefit of those out there who've never met Wookee, you've NEVER met a nicer guy.
Yeah, well I've met Harry Glickman at the VA hospital. He is also a disabled Vet. Nah, nah, nuh, nah nah. Read it and weep, Harry Glickman, and I got to talk to him.
I'm going to assume you didn't watch Leaving Neverland. Do it and be prepared to move on from Michael Jackson. My opinion completely flipped. It would take an impossibly coordinated conspiracy for him not to be a monster. I grew up on that music. I have memories, good memories, tied into it. But not anymore.
One time I saw Gary Trent (Senior) in the Portland airport. I have never, and have never since, asked someone for their autograph. But I did. Dude was a total jerk (and believe me when I say I was being polite. I was.). He didn't even look up or even acknowledge me, just sort of scribbled his signature, then mic-dropped the pen. It was crazy weird. I picked up the pen and thanked him and moved on and marked him off my probably-a-nice-guy list (Apparently he is now a great guy that helps kids and stuff. Good for him.). It was no big deal. Chapter closed. A year or two later I am walking around in NW Portland and a SUV with speakers facing out the back and loud af rolls up beside me. Window lowers. And if it isn't Gary Trent (Senior) behind the wheel. He asks me directions to a building that was looming just feet behind me. In that moment, I marked myself off the probably-a-nice-guy list and directed him to what is now the Pearl District and went about my day.
